


The Muse

by zoeteniets



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Come Marking, Fashion Designer Rob, M/M, Model Aaron, Pining, Swearing, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 01:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10956660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoeteniets/pseuds/zoeteniets
Summary: Fashion designer Rob can't get surly model Aaron out of his mind. It is seriously beginning to affect his work. This might not be a bad thing.Or a fluffy little fic where Rob pines for Aaron and is then sickeningly in love with him when they get together.





	The Muse

 

“Vic, I love you but I really don’t have time for this,” Robert says, rubbing at his temples.

“You’ll thank me for this later, trust me,” she says, dropping a paper bag with _Patisserie Victoria_ etched on it in delicate calligraphy onto the desk beside him. 

“Those better not be apricot pastries…” he warns. He’s been trying to ween himself off his sister’s delectable treats and he knows that if he has just one bite of her famous apricot and almond pinwheels he’ll want at least five of them.

“Pan au Chocolate, actually, and they’re not what I stopped in here for,” she replies, dodging out of the way of a rather harassed looking assistant.

“What then? I’m still a model down and the show starts in three hours, Vic. I don’t have time for riddles.”

“I bought you a gift!” she announces cheerily, gesturing behind her.

By the doorway to the backstage area, Rob sees a young man hovering awkwardly. He is somewhat grubby looking, with a slightly overgrown beard and a deep-set scowl. Rob might have taken the time to appraise his looks further but he has neither the time nor energy. Right now, his attention is focused on his sister and what the hell she thinks she’s up to, a question which he expresses to her via the means of a raised eyebrow.

“This is Aaron Dingle,” she says, waving the scruffy young man over to them. “He’s going to walk in your show.”

Robert can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips. Vic immediately looks scandalised so he apologises.

“Sorry, but you know he’s not my type!”

The young man’s eyes widen at that.

“I mean,” Robert continues, “you are aware of the sort of models I usually use, Vic.” He gestures to where Connor Jensen is loitering about in a dressing gown with a handful of other slim, pale, pretty boys.

“Am I not good enough to wear your clothes?” Aaron asks tartly.

“That’s not what I said,” Robert sighs with exasperation before turning his attention back to his sister. “I have nothing in his size and he’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Well, the way I see it, brother mine,” Vic says placing her hands on her hips in a way that Rob knows means she thinks she has won the argument, “is that you can either accept Aaron’s very generous help here, or you can send an unfinished collection down the runway.”

Robert considers for a moment. He likes his creations to be worn by fey and ethereal looking men and Aaron here is neither of those things. Then again, there are ways he could make it work, and at least the collection is one of his ready-to-wear ones so the tailoring aspect is slightly less crucial then perhaps it could be.

“Fine,” he concedes with a huff, turning to Aaron. “Have a chat with my assistant Bernice over there Mr Dingle, she’s in the pink jacket. She’ll sort you out with something from the wardrobe.”

Aaron still looks vaguely unimpressed but heads off in the direction Robert points him, giving Rob the opportunity to turn his attention back to his sister.

She interrupts him before he can say anything, “Thank you, Vic, for finding me a handsome young man to walk in my show, you’re the best sister ever…” she says clearly trying and failing to mimic his voice.

“Yes, thank you,” he responds. “Although I don’t know where you got the idea that he’d look good in my work from.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she shrugs. “And despite your protestations I know you and I know that he is _exactly_ your type.”

…

Aaron is not Robert’s type.

Not when he’s wearing that purple suit he’s not.

Bernice has obviously picked it for him because it’s the closest thing they have to his size. But the colour is all wrong. Instead of looking regal in deep purple this particular shade makes the man look like he has an unpleasant fever. It will not do. 

There is only one thing for it.

He calls Connor to him and the lad comes bounding over like an eager puppy.  

“Connor, I’m going to have to switch out your position in the line-up.”

The smile immediately falls from Connor’s face.

“But I have the star piece! You promised I could wear it.”

That was true; Rob had made the promise to try to stop Connor offering him complimentary blowjobs at every opportunity. Once was enough, thanks.

“I know,” replies Robert, trying his best to sound apologetic. “But with things as they are… I can’t have him walking down the runway looking like _that_ …” he gestures to Aaron who raises an eybrow in response.

He grabs the clothes bag containing his key piece off the rail and unzips it, holding the open bag against Aaron’s body to check if his suspicions are correct. The star piece is a structured trench coat in a deep dove grey. He’s embellished it with several layers of embroidery, keeping the floral patterns he is famous for delicate and fragile, yet still distinctly masculine.

“Strip,” he says impatiently to the both of them. Connor immediately strips out of the robe he’s wearing, while Aaron goes about doing the same, albeit at a slower pace. 

Rob motions for Aaron to turn around so that he can slip the coat onto his shoulders to check the fit. He’d made the coat for himself at first, planning to take it in when he finally decided which model to put it on, and luckily Aaron is nearly the same size as him. Rob says a little prayer that this outfit will work and turns Aaron around by his shoulders.

Yeah, that will do. 

Rob knows he’s sticking his tongue out as he drinks in the sight of Aaron in his favourite coat. Hopefully, the two models watching him think that it is simply because he’s concentrating rather than because he’s trying not to drool everywhere.

“Could you wear this without a shirt?” Robert asks, taking a few steps back so that he can appraise how the coat looks from a distance. Aaron looks even better from this angle; the cut of the jacket already falls perfectly on his shoulder and waist emphasising the broad masculinity of his chest while still looking delicate and light. He steps back closer to Aaron, moving him this way and that so that he can gain an idea of how the outfit will photograph.

“We’ll have to do something about this beard,” he says turning Aaron’s face to the side with a press of his fingers. He sees that Aaron’s eyes have widened so he hastily adds, “nothing extreme; just a trim. Some mascara, a bit of shimmer to highlight your cheekbones.”

His hands move down to the collar of the coat. He’d fallen in love with the fabric ages ago and knew instantly that he wanted it to form the basis of this ready to wear collection. There are quite a few outfits in the collection that use this fabric but this is the only piece that uses it as the main component. He’s spent ages designing this coat, trying all sorts of lines and styles until he finally found something that he loved. This coat is his ‘baby’ and he has spent whole weeks dreaming about what it would look like when he finally sent it down the runway.

But he could have never imagined what it would look like here, adorning the shoulders of a man whose beauty had been completely hidden under a hoodie and t-shirt but has been brought brightly to life by one of Rob’s best designs. He pulls the collar of the coat slightly wider, exposing more of the skin underneath, and tries not to get lost in the delectable sight.

“What about me?” Connor pipes up from the sidelines.

Shit, what about him?

Luckily, Rob’s a fantastic liar. He grabs another clothes bag off the rail, this one containing the shirt that the coat was originally meant to be worn with, made of a pale mauve chiffon so fine that it is almost see through. It is decorated along the cuffs and collar with the same patterns that are worked into the coat, giving the impression that the embroidery is stitched onto the skin of whoever wears the shirt. On Aaron the gauzy fabric would look silly, highlighting his muscles like some beach bound body builder. But Rob had to admit that hanging off Connor’s delicate bones the effect of the shirt would be quite pleasing.

He might just be able to pull this off…

“I’ve been saving this shirt for something special,” he lies. “Take these trousers over to Bernice and have her alter them for you then come back to me for styling.” He throws the purple trousers Aaron was just wearing at Connor and tries not to think about how the fabric has taken on the faintest hint of Aaron’s body heat.

There’s a pair of trousers that exactly match the coat that Aaron is still wrapped in and Rob hands them to him before immediately getting on his knees so he can adjust the length of them. Aaron stumbles a little as he pulls the trousers on and reaches out to steady himself against Rob’s shoulders.

Rob blames his semi on the stress of the show. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he is on his knees, fingers grazing against the inside thigh of a man that Vic identified as ‘his type’ with frustrating accuracy…

…

If Rob wasn’t completely and utterly exhausted he might have remembered to get Aaron’s number so that he could ask him for a drink sometime, to say a proper thank you for stepping in last minute. But by the time that Rob has finished closing the show and making sure that all his creations are safely wrapped back up the backstage area is completely empty of all models. Rob figures that Aaron’s unwillingness to hang around indicates that he doesn’t want to spend any more time with Rob than the hastily agreed emergency walk. Rob can hardly blame him; he is very aware of the fact that he probably came across as an arrogant prick during their brief interactions.

Rob tries to put the whole sorry affair out of his mind. After all, he barely knows the man and he might have a ghastly personality to match his terrible sense of personal style. Honestly, who in their right mind wears hoodies once they’re over the age of nineteen?

He spends more time than perhaps he should convincing himself that he has forgotten all about Aaron. He doesn’t look for him in magazines, and he doesn’t prick his ears up in conversations where his name might be mentioned. He’s never gone soft over one of his models before, preferring to keep his professional and personal lives as separate as he can. And aside from the occasional mutual hand-job to take off the edge after a particularly stressful show (thank you Connor) this tactic is one he’s been able to stick to remarkably well.

Still, he can’t always stop his mind drifting to Aaron. He finds himself particularly struggling with this as he watches the spring/summer collection by KTZ on the runway. KTZ is about as far away from Rob’s aesthetic as it is possible to be, but Rob always watches their shows with great interest. They’ve gone for a warehouse aesthetic with this show, reflecting the industrial motifs used in the clothes. The runway is incredibly narrow, the heating is turned on high, and the music is a low techno beat giving the whole place a claustrophobic atmosphere. It’s quite exciting, and Rob is enjoying the show, but the fact that the collection seems to be centred around pieces inspired by bondage wear is really not helping Robert clear his mind.

The models walking in this show are generally of a more muscled build than Rob’s models and Rob finds his mind immediately wandering back and forth between paying attention to the clothes and fantasies of Aaron. He wonders what the young scruff would look like in these clothes. Black is the colour of choice here and Robert’s mind conjures an image of black beard against blacker clothing. Making those clear blue eyes pop.

Then his heart stops beating.

There, as if conjured by the strength of his imagination, is Aaron Dingle, stalking down the runway, heading right for him. He is wearing an outfit that looks as if has been specifically designed to kill Robert: a semi-see through vest overlaid with leather straps and buckles that look like something directly lifted from one of the more risqué pornos on his hard-drive. One of the leather straps hanging from Aaron’s beautiful shoulders brushes enticingly against Rob’s knee and he has to fight the full body shudder threatening to overwhelm him. He tries to catch Aaron’s gaze but the man has already moved on, eyes forward, face stoic, the consummate professional.

There’s no hint at all that Aaron has seen him, and when Rob finally blags his way backstage claiming that he wants to talk about a collaboration with the brand, Aaron is nowhere to be found.

…

His sister is opening another one of her cafes, this time at Selfridges in Manchester, so, of course, he has designed her a dress for the launch party. He’s kept it simple this time, letting the fabric speak on its own rather than embellishing it with his own story. The deep scarlet of the dress works beautifully on Vic’s colouring and the structured body of the dress makes her walk with a regal air.

He spends the whole evening beaming with pride, watching from a distance as Victoria schmooses. She never stops working; he is sure he has taken out her diary several times to organise events and meetings with future clients. He wonders whether it was a good thing to let her convince him to design the dress she is wearing with pockets so that she can keep that infernal diary with her always. His sister needs to take a break.  

Just as he’s contemplating whether he should go and fetch himself a fresh glass of champagne he hears a loud cry of delight. Over by the door, one of the Barton brothers has spotted someone and enveloped them in such a tight hug that the other person looks like they may be struggling to breathe.

“It’s my boy!” The Barton cries, as he finally lets the person that he is choke-hugging go.  

And nope, this isn’t fair, because of course, that person is Aaron Dingle, male model and, as Rob has just unfortunately remembered, best friend of Adam Barton, the singer who is dating his little sister.

Fuck his life. 

It’s not like he’s been avoiding Aaron but it’s not like he’s been actively seeking him out either. Not seeing Aaron means not having to think about the way that all his sketches for new designs have stopped being based on fey-looking stick figures but on strong masculine forms with a shadow of stubble on their jaw.

But there he is, looking stunning in a blue three-piece suit by a designer Rob doesn’t immediately recognise. He quickly chases away the stab of jealousy he feels upon realising that Aaron is not in his clothes. Instead, he finds himself peering closely at said suit, appraising the details and the tiny little white polka-dots which adorn the fabric when suddenly his eyes meet Aaron’s.

It’s like a bolt of lightning. One moment his head is filled with polka-dots and beard scruff and blue eyes and the next the image of a perfume bottle appears fully formed in his mind. Everything is there- the lines, colours and logo- but more than that he can smell the perfume: sweet yet spicy, like petrichor- the smell of summer rain drying on a lover’s skin.

 _Adonis_ the fragrance is called. He can see the advertisements for it in his mind’s eye too. Aaron Dingle dressed in skin tone silk looking soft yet strong as he gazes seductively at the viewer.

“I need my sketchbook!” he announces more to himself than anyone.

He sees Victoria glance nervously after him as he goes to grab his bag from where it is stashed in the kitchen. He begins sketching immediately, the images in his head fall onto the page gracefully, and by the time he comes back into himself he’s got a cramp from sitting cross-legged on a hard kitchen floor for several hours.

And of course, the party is over, the guests are gone, and his sister is staring at him with her hands on her hips.

…

He’s been staring at the pile of fabric besides the mannequin for a good 20 minutes without moving a muscle. This simply will not do. He should just give up and pick a shade, but every time he comes within an inch of a decision he changes his mind. For some unfathomable reason, he is concerned that the colours he picks will not complement Aaron’s skin to the fullest. It’s a ridiculous notion, firstly because Rob’s eye for colour has always been incredible and secondly because the damn clothes aren’t even being made for Aaron.

The desk full of sketches that clearly resemble the man are just a coincidence…

There is only one thing for it.

Victoria picks up on the third ring like the angel she is.

“Hi Victoria, listen I need a quick favour,” he says before he can chicken out. “One of my models was meant to come in for a fitting today but he’s got the flu…”

“Can’t you ask Nicola to hire you a new one?”

“No, Nic and I had a fight and she’s being a prize bitch to me at the moment.” It’s not true but he and his PA fight so often that the lie is totally believable. “Look, have you got a number for Aaron?”

She huffs and puffs but eventually messages him a number which he immediately texts, explaining (lying) about the situation and asking Aaron to do him this one little favour. Luckily for him, Aaron texts back almost immediately saying he’ll be there in 20 minutes, which is great as it gives Robert the time to clear off his desk and try to make it look like he’s made more of a start on this design than he has…

When Rob opens the door to his studio Aaron is back in the same black-on-black ensemble he was the first time they met. The scowl is back on his face too. 

“You say you need someone to model a new piece?”

“That’s right, the tailoring element is crucial for this one and the model who is going to wear it at the show is sick today.”

“Could you not have phoned the agency?”

“They would have just sent you anyway; you’re the only person on the books with the same measurements as Craig.”

“How did you get my number? I was meant to be having a day off.”

“Victoria,” Rob replies, trying not to let his breath catch as Aaron takes off his hoodie. “Day off you say? I guess I owe you a drink.”

“No need,” Aaron replies. “Where do you want me?”

Aaron stays very patient as Rob fusses around him, trying different colour palettes and fabric textures. They even have a fairly long-winded discussion about whether the colours he is basing the new collection should be called neutrals, golds, or Aaron’s heinous suggestion “beige”.

But then it all goes wrong.

“So, when you text me to say that a model had dropped out and you needed to do a fitting, that was a lie,” Aaron says, quite suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“You told me you needed me for a fitting. But instead, I’ve just stood here letting you drape fabric over me for hours. So, I wanna know: was there any point to this? Or do you just like wasting my time? Is that how you get your kicks?”

Rob’s reply is snappier than he means it to be, “What do you think?”

“I think I don’t like being messed around,” Aaron replies, grabbing his hoodie from where it is hanging on the back of a chair, and turning to leave.

“Don’t,” Robert says. He is surprised by the urgency with which he says it, and by how close their bodies have suddenly become. “I’m not messing you around.”

“Really?” Aaron dismisses. “And how’s that?”

Robert is feeling bold; he takes a step even closer.

“Because you know why we’re both still here.”

“Do I?” Aaron clearly isn’t going to make this easy for him. “You tell me.”

Robert glances down at Aaron’s lips, taking a moment to admit to himself how much he really wants to lean in and taste them. He’s no idea why this man has him so frustrated, why this man seems to draw him in, why this man is constantly in his thoughts. It would be wonderful to give in and see where this temptation could lead him.

But then suddenly, his brain switches into self-sabotage mode: what if it is not as wonderful as his mind anticipates it to be? What if Robert inevitably fucks everything up? He’s become so used to thinking about Aaron every time he sits down to draw out a new design that he doesn’t know what to do if that source of inspiration is taken away from him.

He can’t screw this up. The words “forget about it” are out of his mouth before he can really think about it. 

“Fine,” Aaron says, his face and voice betraying no hint of emotion. “See you around.”

His hand is nearly on the handle of the front door of the studio when Robert realises that no, this really will not do. Each step that Aaron takes away from him feels like a punch to the gut, and all at once he knows with total certainty that he cannot let this man slip through his feelings.

And so he rushes forward, grabs Aaron by the arm, and pulls him into a kiss.

It’s wonderful.

Robert knew it would be of course, but he’s almost completely overwhelmed by how surprisingly delicious Aaron’s mouth is. Rob feels like he’s drowning and he tries to support himself by pushing Aaron back up against the door so that he can concentrate on other things than holding them both up. Like the softness of Aaron’s hair in his hands, or the texture of his beard against his jaw.

But the most wonderful thing, the most glorious thing, and the thing that he will forever be replaying in his mind is the way that Aaron answers every begging request Rob presses against his lips with one of his own.

Rob pulls away, almost frightened by the intensity, but Aaron follows after, not letting him escape.

“You got a bed in here?” 

It’s in the corner, hidden under a pile of fabric and loose sketchbook pages. Rob doesn’t give a single flying fuck about this though as he manoeuvres Aaron across his studio, throwing him down onto the bed with a satisfying thud. Rob is right there with him, legs between his thighs, close enough that every breath of his is filled with Aaron.

The younger man seems momentarily shocked at finding himself laid out like this. But then his face relaxes almost into a smile, and he tilts his face up, clearly begging for another kiss.

Rob is happy to oblige.

…

Rob might have thought that sleeping with Aaron would slake his desire for the man, but if anything now that he knows exactly what he tastes like Rob is constantly starving for him.

Luckily they have enough mutual friends that when Rob starts to look for excuses to see Aaron and spend time with him that he finds them in abundance.

One night, as they stumble back to Aaron’s place after watching a _Barton Brothers_ gig also attended by Victoria, Rob realises with a happy glow that he and Aaron are dating.

He tells Aaron this later as he is sitting on Aaron’s exposed chest, watching his cum dry on the younger man’s skin, the both of them basking in the delicious afterglow.

“It’s taken you this long you realise that we’re boyfriends?” Aaron asks once he’s managed to get his breathing back under control.

Rob laughs at the ridiculousness of it. Of course, they’re boyfriends; they’ve been living in each other’s pockets ever since that first kiss. But it’s been a very long time since Rob has had a relationship that is somehow both uncomplicated and all-consuming as this one is. He feels very brave now that he’s been able to say it.

He’d tell all of this to Aaron, for once unconcerned with bearing his emotions, if it were not for the fact that a new idea for a design is forming in his head.

“You look gorgeous like this, by the way,” he says, smoothing his hands up Aaron’s flushed chest.

“You think so?”

“You’re simply divine with all this cum on you. It goes so well with your skin tone…” Rob muses, pausing for a moment so that he can lean down and suck a mark onto the sensitive part of Aaron’s neck. “I think the world should know how gorgeous you are, and how pretty I make you. Maybe I should send you down the runway next season wearing only this?”

“Wearing only what? Your spunk and teeth marks?”

“I want the world to see you covered in my marks,” Rob confesses, “I want to world to know that you are mine.”

Rob is aware that he probably just rambling like this because he is utterly sex drunk, but that’s ok because Aaron is too, as evidenced by the fact that he is humouring Rob’s possessive tendencies rather than telling him he’s being weird.

The idea starts to germinate in his head over the course of a couple of days. The fact that all his sketches look like Aaron is no longer a secret (said sketches, after all, decorate nearly every surface of his studio) but his inability to design with any colour that wouldn’t suit Aaron is something he keeps close to his chest. Still, he reckons that Aaron must have figured it out by now, especially as whenever Rob returns from the fabric store these days he makes Aaron hold each piece against his bare chest to double check the tones.

This time, he comes home to Aaron lounging about in bed, exactly where Rob left him when he was struck by inspiration first thing in the morning. His bags are full of natural (yes neutral Aaron, stop snickering) tones, white lace, and a bolt of pink silk that may or may not match the colour of Aaron’s lips.

Aaron lies still and lets Robert muck around with placing sections of lace all over Aaron’s bare chest. It takes him a few moments to realise what he is doing.

“Christ Robert,” Aaron sighs halfway between exasperated and fond. “When you said you wanted to send me down the runway covered in your cum and nothing else I didn’t realise you were actually going to use that for a design.”

“I’m going to use it for a whole collection,” Robert responds, just to be contrary. “I find you to be very inspiring,” he tells Aaron with a kiss.  

And indeed he does. Rob already has several pieces planned, all neutral toned suits in light, almost see-through fabric, decorated with swirling white patterns to cover or emphasise parts of the body. Well, if the womenswear designers can send mostly naked models down the runway, why can’t he?

“Oh God, what if the fashion mags find out that this whole collection is inspired by splattered cum? It’s ridiculous.”

“It’s sexy,” Rob counters with a wink.

“You are absurd, and I love you,” Aaron says with a sigh and a smile. “Seriously though, what are you going to say when people ask you about your inspiration? And what are you going to call the collection? _Spunk-splattered_?”

“No, I’m going to call it _Essence._ ”

Aaron’s laugh is like music.

…

There are multiple times that the sight of Aaron naked inspires Robert to start designing. He hasn’t felt this creative in such a long time. Every time he thinks that his mind will quieten down and let him get some rest another design for a collection, or accessory, or perfume bottle forms in his mind. His relationship with his sketchbook has become like that of Victoria and her diary, so much so that Aaron has taken to hiding the book on days where he wants to be sure that Rob’s full attention is on him and him alone.

Tonight, though, he seems quite happy to let Rob’s creativity fly free. The whole thing started as a joke, Rob wanting to give Aaron a massage but regretting that the only thing he had in the studio that would substitute for massage oil was paint and lube. The lube they obviously need for later, so paint it is, and Rob has jokingly dipped his hands into some paint to ease the rub of his hands against Aaron’s back. But then he sees a wonderful pattern emerge on Aaron’s skin, and so he switches colours to try and draw the pattern out. Then more ideas emerge, inspired by the first, and soon Aaron’s back is covered in different mottled shades of purple and orange.

“Can I take a picture of this?” Rob asks, wanting to preserve the design for future inspiration.

“Of course,” Aaron replies, his voice thick with relaxation.

Rob places a kiss on the back of Aaron’s neck and moves to fetch his camera. He takes loads of photos, far more than necessary, because he loves the way Aaron looks so relaxed and so content wearing Rob’s marks on his skin. He can picture the whole collection already, but he wants to preserve this first image. The collection will be based on tones of black, a departure from his usual preference for warm tones and pastels. But the key to this piece will be the dark floral patterns based on the shades currently adorning his lover’s back.  

He knows the _Dark Florals_ collection is going to be an instant hit. How can it not be, with this gorgeous man as its inspiration?

…

They have the whole day to spend together before they need to get ready for dinner in the evening, so, naturally, they spend all their time in bed. Rob can’t believe that after all this time they are still behaving like they’ve only just started dating. Every day Rob find something new to love about Aaron, whether it’s the way he folds his underwear, or the ticklish spot on the top of his left foot, or the specific tiny sound Aaron makes when Rob strokes his cock just so.

He is stupidly, ridiculously, euphorically happy.

They’ve joked about Aaron’s style, or lack thereof, before. Rob claims that he can’t understand why Aaron always wears the same things when he gets given so many beautiful pieces by designers while Aaron claims that plenty of designers wear the same outfit all the time and maybe Rob is the one who needs a style lesson. Rob then loudly proclaims that any designer who only wears black shouldn’t be trusted while tickling Aaron on the ribs and then they either start the discussion all over again or, more likely, they end up necking on the sofa.

Today though, Robert has decided that he ought to display to Aaron the hidden gems that he is sure are concealed within his wardrobe. Aaron watches him rifling away from the bed, looking enticingly debauched with his hair all fluffed up from Rob’s hands.

There is an Armani suit in a delicious midnight black which he knows Aaron will look stunning in. But Rob wants to prove his point about not wearing all back for once (and, in honesty, he knows he won’t be able to watch Aaron strut around in Armani and resist the temptation to drag him off to the bathroom for a quickie every twenty minutes.) Other than that, there is a lovely Ted Baker shirt and a pair of trousers from Tiger of Sweden, plus a few other Scandinavian brands and the odd KTZ piece.

And then his fingers brush over satin.

There, hanging quite innocently in the wardrobe of his lover, is a piece of clothing that he never thought he would see again.

The construction of the jacket is simple enough. It is made of heavy satin in a bright royal blue. But the real show stopper element of this piece is the embroidery: hundreds of tiny leaves and flowers stitched in a rainbow of colours, each one painstakingly created by hand. His hands.

“Rob,” Aaron calls softly from his pillow cocoon. “Are you ok?”

“How did you…? Why have you…?” Rob is shocked into incoherence.

Aaron clearly sees that Rob’s not going to get anywhere without having his hand held, so he slips from the bed and moves over to him, snaking his arms around his waist and hugging him from behind. Rob is powerless to resist falling into Aaron’s warm embrace, though he knows that he is still tense with shock.

The jacket that he is holding is from the very first collection he ever put down the runway. He had given it to his lover at the time, a terrible mistake as the relationship broke down soon after and Rob lost a piece that not only cost him financially but emotionally.

“I bought it at a charity auction,” Aaron explains between gentle kisses to Rob’s bare shoulder. “I saw this was one of the lots and I didn’t bet on anything else that night, just so that I could put everything I had on it. I don’t know why, but I just had to have it. Something about it spoke to me, I guess.”

“I put so many hours into this jacket,” Robert confesses, “so much love and passion.”

“I know, I could see it,” Aaron continues. “I’ve never worn it in public because it feels like it is too intimate a piece. Whenever I tried it on I felt like I was reading a love letter intended for someone else.”

Rob turns around in Aaron’s arms, “I made this piece before I really knew what love was. I’d be honoured if you would wear it for me now.”

“You sure? You don’t think it’s strange that I’ve had it in the back of my wardrobe this whole time?” Aaron says with a blush. “I’ve wanted to walk for one of your shows ever since I bought this, but I knew you would never hire me,” Aaron ducks his head under the weight of the confession.

“It’s a little odd, maybe,” Rob concedes, “but now I feel foolish that you have been a fan of mine for a while, whereas I am only just learning about your talents.”

“I’m sure you have a few more talents hidden somewhere for me to discover,” Aaron says, gripping Rob’s arse cheeks in a way that makes him moan helplessly.

Together they go through Aaron’s wardrobe to construct him an outfit based around the blue jacket. When they step out of the flat Rob knows that they look very well together, both of them sporting Rob’s designs.

The evening is still light as they walk the short distance to the restaurant arm in arm. They know that they are going to be snapped by the paparazzi so why not look sickeningly in love while they’re at it? They stop for a moment at a crossing and Rob takes the pause as an opportunity to drink in the sight of his handsome boyfriend dressed in one of his most infamous designs.

But then something just within his line of sight calls his attention; a poster of said handsome boyfriend lounging about on a pile of silk advertising the fragrance that Rob first conceived of at his sister’s party all those months ago. Rob is thrilled by how the whole advertising campaign has turned out, and he drops a kiss onto Aaron’s cheek and tells him so.   

“You know,” Rob says, as they cross and continue walking to the restaurant where they are meeting up with Vic and Adam, “I’ve had another idea for a fragrance. This one will be something fresher. It will smell of bergamot, like that tea you pretend you don’t drink two cups of each day. And of peppermint, like that shower gel you use. And lavender, like the sleep balm you put on your temples after a hard day at work.”

“Sounds lovely,” Aaron says with an smile. “And what will this perfume be called? _Essence of Aaron_?” he suggests with a saucy wink.

“No,” Rob replies, pulling Aaron ever closer to him. “ _The Muse._ ”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for Sabrina (aupaysdesbisounours) over on tumblr as part of smittenwithsugden's Secret Fandom Complement Exchange. Sabrina, your blog is so beautiful that I was so very inspired when writing this; it was only ment to be 1,000 or so words but then I kept finding wonderful things on your blog that I wanted to add in! :) I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> One day I will stop re-writing the fist kiss scene into my fics. One day... 
> 
> There might be room for a sequel...?


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